Citadel
by Kleon Luminia
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is one of the top graduates of a special state academy only catering to the few people chosen to work under the government's underground and classified system. As he begins his internship under a seemingly frivolous geneticist, he will find himself at war with every rule and belief when a young clone soldier— already replicated 704 times— came under his care.


** Citadel**

~AN APH FANFICTION~

**Warnings:** Rated M, Human AU Utopia-Dystopia,  
Unconventional Relationships, Possible depictions of violence  
Sensitive Issues, Inappropriate themes and languages  
Don't Like? Don't Read!, F&F, Please Review  
**Permanent POV:** Arthur Kirkland  
**Main Trio:** US, Fem!US, UK  
**Main Supporting: **Austria and Prussia

**Beta Read by:** Tobi Schroedinger

I don't own APH whatsoever.

* * *

**Chapter 1:  
**Not a Thought of Yesterday

…

-o**0**o-

"If we all want to eliminate the destructive prejudices of humanity, it is completely essential for us to continually erase the past that gave birth to it and remain as if our society had always been a blank piece of paper. Having history freely imparted would merely turn it into a dangerous excuse to harm. People never learn. They simply go around justifying their mistakes and making up more baseless rules to assert their unfounded superiority over their fellowmen."

Perhaps, it was the seventieth slide already. I do not quite remember now since I've already lost count on my mental tally. The presentation projected at our classroom's visual board seemed to have no plans yet on ending any minute from now. It was still stuck playing a muted reel of film depicting a genocide scene from exactly nine hundred and ninety years ago. In contrast with its immaculate silence, behind me came obvious sounds of constant squirming and feet shuffling on the smooth surface of the tiled floor.

I discreetly lowered my head and shifted my gaze a little towards my right. Although I felt that this lecture on final instructions was becoming a bit too tedious, the other students in my current field of vision still appeared quite actively interested in it. The professor only continued to speak, even more so that it's becoming very much like a passionate tirade.

But then, not much longer, a low and mocking voice exasperatedly broke out from behind my back.

"Yeah, yeah right…"

I twitched a smile and immediately bit my lip afterwards. It was such an amusing feeling when someone finally spoke out the words that you had no courage to sigh out since midway through a five-hour lecture. However, to a certain somebody else likewise seated at one of the desks behind my row, the same words held an entirely different meaning. He hissed very quietly but firmly, more sounding like in a manner of dissuasion rather than of irritation.

"Sshh! Gilbert, don't dare say another word."

"Now, you're shushing me? Guess I am not even allowed to express mere boredom."

"Don't deflect. I know where that sigh is coming from and it's not from boredom."

"As much as you are claiming to be good in reading into other people, you will never be correct every single time. Anyway, you're still free to be a fussy, rule-bound pain in the ass however you want. Just don't expect me to give a fucking care about it."

"Are you suicidal or just plain insane? _Five_ disciplinary strikes still not enough for you?"

After hearing those almost inaudible words, I heard a pen falling. Then after just imagining that one of them picked it up, I listened and made out even more of their hushed quarrelling.

"Would you please just stop the bullshit? If you now regret not doing it, then go ahead and report me for _talking… _quench all your twisted moral guilt! Why do you even care to warn me?"

"Okay, I'm done with you! You're just… just too impossible!"

My eyebrows furrowed and with it, I flicked my eyes sideways the moment I realised that it was becoming a lot more than their usual disagreements. But then, when I was about to face back, a snapping voice from the far front blared out loud enough to startle and halt me halfway through my intention.

"Mr Edelstein and Mr Beilschmidt! I see that the two of you appear to have no further interest in today's session. Well then, go outside where you're a lot less of an irritation for us all. Pick up your things right away and leave. Now!"

Roderich calmly walked out of our room as if he already had anticipated it, not even looking a least bit rebuked or embarrassed. On the other hand, I heard Gilbert derisively scoffing before he uncouthly stood up from his desk and followed the other one out of the classroom.

The professor ignored the otherwise disrespectful action and continued from where he had probably left off just as if nothing happened. I quietly breathed out and simply let the on-going lecture gradually reconstitute into my thoughts all over again. But not yet too far from a minute of focus, my attentions veered sideways once more as Gilbert barged back into the room without any warning. I followed him with my eyes and saw him grab out his desk drawer in a boorish yank and noisily emptied out all its contents on the table. After hastily shoving everything inside his rucksack, he roughly went for the door a second time only to pause right on his feet, holding onto the door frame.

"Having the past freely imparted would merely turn it as a dangerous excuse to harm, you say?" His voice cracked in a certain way that made me feel a tinge of seething in his words. He then finally turned and boldly faced our professor, fuming out, "Well, this five-hundred year old war you all keep on protecting. Isn't that also a mere dangerous excuse to harm and assert false superiority? How many lives were already lost? Oh yes, I see… those _slaves_ you kept on mass-producing doesn't actually count in your book as humans. Alright, I fold… no argument then."

After flashing his sarcastic stare at all of us, he walked out straightaway. I could see a few students actually dropping their faces after Gilbert left, but I could also remark that the majority still appeared hugely unperturbed. If there was only one thing in common for everyone inside the room, it was the silence that seemed begging for a sound of validation. However, that silence soon was banished and left unanswered when the professor suddenly called out my name.

"Mr Kirkland… what do you think of what Mr Beilschmidt had said?"

Suppressing my surprise, I tried to placidly stand up despite my irresistible feelings of anxiousness and spoke right away just to avoid others from reading my tensed reaction.

"The nation's survival and stability is of more prior importance than whatever lies beneath." I started, levelling my tone of voice. "Even so, that stability is a luxury and it would always ask for an unfair price for us to pay. For most citizens, it would be the free grasp towards knowledge; and for the combatants, it costs as much as their lives. "

An eyebrow rose on the professor's face, I noticed. That expression made me pause for a second but in the same instant, he gestured for me to continue.

"The latter are undeniably the ones who pay the largest possible price and it is for our organisation to shoulder that guilt. That guilt's weight would then be our very own sacrifice. That is what the Citadel Protocol is for— our oath to treat them as ethically as possible, for like us, I believe that they would always be living, breathing humans."

"Good enough answer. Sit down. It is good to know that you don't have any those narrow-minded notions like that friend of yours, Mr Kirkland."

I immediately sat down and reached for my pen, sighing gradually through parted lips. With the device in my hand, I drew fast and endless circles on the clear surface of my note. It had always been a habit of mine to scribble anything as if it helps emptying out the rest of my nerves. By then, the professor resumed yet again into his lecture, moving on to the next slide and spoke even more in between. My mind only drifted as I could no longer make myself listen.

Sometimes, I just wondered if the life we lived in as students in exceptional seclusion were truly as different from the ones lived by normal young people in the heart of the carefree metropolis. One way or another, maybe they also have their own share of classroom bickering, irate professors, experiences of being sent out… and maybe discussions of whom to consider human or not… even just for theory. But then and again, maybe we are indeed different. A whole world entirely different from them.

From birth and through this exact day, almost everything that I could only remember was the memory of living inside this state-run academy. We rarely discuss things about our pasts anymore but it is never a mystery to anyone how we all went under the care of this institution and their seclusion programme. Even though every student here came from diverse backgrounds, different homes and base financial capacities; at one point when we were just five years of age, we all lived through the same abrupt and drastic change— being given up immediately after passing a mandatory series of ability tests.

I don't really remember anymore how I had taken it to be physically handed over by my family for the sake of my prestige and for their very own. Perhaps, I had handled it just as reasonably good as everybody else, since I also don't remember seeing any other child whining for their mothers. It would then be a long while of waiting and listening to strict prohibitions before any of us were finally given a chance to see them again in person. For five years, I then had no other choice but to be satisfied only with the mere feeling of a frigid glass screen against my fingertips.

Only after those five years came a moment I could surely say I still remember vividly well. The rushing excitement that had thrived within my ten-year-old self was such an unforgettable feeling even up until now. Looking back, it was maybe for the reason that it caused the very last time I had held onto my childlike innocence. For as I finally saw my father again, touched my mother's warm face and embraced my brothers who all grew up so well, I was utterly shocked as I had not felt even a single twinge of attachment towards any of them.

Under that wonderful day's bright glow coming through the visiting area's vaulted glass ceiling, I had only brought myself to smile, saying almost nothing over the three hours that just dragged on. When the time had all been spent, I simply walked away, feeling inexplicably crestfallen and emotionally disarrayed. I couldn't help but feel ashamed at being terribly conflicted after that little reunion; and for that very reason, I never dared myself to mention those feelings to anyone. However, as days quickly passed by, I only came to see that most of us had felt just the same.

A merciless capacity to detach from almost anything and anyone— maybe the ability tests sought that up from us too.

Our class was finally dismissed after almost an hour of overtime. After I wiped tears of boredom on my shirt's cuff, I lazily gathered my belongings and gone for the door, saying goodbye to the professor partway. Outside, I didn't expect for Roderich and Gilbert to still be present, sitting widely spaced-apart upon the corridor's half-wall. The former jumped out from the beam first and approached me.

"Arthur, I've been waiting. I left my key of our dormitory room behind. If you're going back there right now, then we should go together. I'm tired. I just want to get some sleep—"

"Yo, Kirkland!" Gilbert didn't even wait for Roderich to finish before piping up. "Nice rebuttal to what I had said back there. Congratulations. Surely, Prof was very impressed. "

"It wasn't a rebuttal, _Beilschmidt_," I replied, laughingly. "since you already cleared beforehand that there wasn't an argument."

"Ha! Very clever."

After taking a hit from Gilbert's elbow against my side and laughing even more, Roderich placed a frustrated stare on both of us and reclaimed the conversation.

"Okay, can we all go and hurry back to the dormitory now?"

"You two go ahead." Gilbert then winked at him and added, "You perfectly know that I have an entire sea to swim… wish me luck."

"Well, I just wish you're _lucky_ enough not to get _swallowed and drown_." The other one strongly emphasized.

I then looked at Gilbert who in turn, only shrugged his shoulders and smirked.

The sea holds various expressive connotations for everybody within the academy's premises. As I heard the word actually come out from Gilbert's mouth, a little prying curiosity passed my thinking. Not a single plain citizen within the nation's borders had yet seen even just a picture of the sea and for that very reason; it only became synonymous to the word, _unknown_. Although we students had an opportunity to know what an actual sea looks like through old archives, it simply looked so surreally beautiful to us that it then only stood for something considered unattainable.

Of what kind of 'unattainable' Gilbert wants to achieve by himself— that I can neither simply identify from the smugness of his smile nor merely see at the confidence of his stride.

Gilbert's back grew smaller and smaller as he walked farther away from us. His rucksack tugged down heavily against the grey cloth of his waistcoat, drawing tight creases along the sleeve of his shirt. The further he walked away, the faster he treaded across the hallway, swerving easily from others who hindered his path. But before he disappeared into the scattered crowd, Roderich drew out a firm yell.

"Don't get into more trouble, Gilbert! Oceans are deep and dangerous!"

"Yes, Mom!" Gilbert yelled in reply, not turning around.

Roderich and I then turned to the other side and started walking toward the lifts. In a blink of an eye or two, I stole a quick glance at his face but then decided to just keep my eyes forward. Not one of us was really seemed up for a talk. Although, there was something in his expression that made me feel that there really was something to be talked about. So despite of our present comfort in each other's silence, I decided to break my own and ask him about it.

"What does Gilbert intend to do?"

"He told me that he was going to opt out of the programme."

"What?! Isn't it a bit too late for that?" Not believing what I just heard, my voice almost stammered out, "But we'll be graduating in a month!"

"He's insane! And I'm tired of putting sense into that immature and reckless child." Roderich repeatedly rammed his finger against the lift button before he threw me an intent stare. "You know what? I'm forever done with him. His life, his call."

So that's the _sea_ Gilbert was talking about. I shifted my eyes and took a sigh out, thinking how the hell could he be accepted to leave given his very last-minute application. And what would become of his life and career after that, I don't even have a single idea.

Despite the rather rigid terms of the programme we were under, students were still actually given the free will to leave the Academy and opt for another career. If one undergoes and passes a series of specifying aptitude exams, he will then be made to sign a certain agreement and sent afterwards to his desired school. Motivated by our curiosity or maybe just out of sheer boredom, Roderich and I actually registered and took the test when we were thirteen. The result had been mailed to us, although we only disregarded it as we never really intended to push through in the first place.

"The secession exams… You never told me. What was your result? " I asked, joining him inside the lift car as it opened.

"Performing Arts" A slight, contemptuous smile verged on his lips and he sighed scornfully, "It is ridiculous, even downright laughable."

"I've seen you play a few times in the music room. You do have natural talent. Not ridiculous at all."

"Such kind of career holds no important purpose, value or significance."

Roderich uttered those words so frigidly that it made me flick my eyes at him, feeling muddled with wild suspicions and an awe-inspired reluctance to say a response. However, as cold as his voice might have sounded, it could never mask the uneasiness that I could only perceive at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows and under the sheen of his glasses.

When he noticed my staring, he only threw me an annoyed look and then offhandedly tapped on the lift panel. It would be a few more seconds of standoffish silence before he continued our exchange of remembrances.

"How about you, what was your result? I kind of have forgotten it."

"Botany… They say I'll do well in horticulture." I replied, slightly smiling to break the ice.

"That's not actually very far." He said back in a low voice, seemingly musing as he locked his eyes up towards the floor indicator. "Now I remember, I actually spited your results back then so I had mine immediately thrown in the shredder. That shallow career alternative was just a big, humiliating slap on my face. It even had made me reconsider if I really do belong here."

"You always overthink things." I tried to sound a little reassuring despite I knew that he was never the kind to accept such concern. Even so, I added, "…even with this problem on Gilbert. He's probably just kidding us up again into believing a very bad joke."

"As far as you and I know, Gilbert's _bad joke_ stage already ended up years ago. Now, he's apparently progressed into a full-blown delinquent."

After I heard those words, I couldn't even help but laugh in sheer disbelief.

"Isn't that quite an exaggeration? To begin with, opting out of the programme surely is a permitted process and not a crime. If Gilbert's application will be approved by the academy, then good for him. Wouldn't it be great for us to just be happy for him and quit the worrying—"

"Oh, don't give me that crap, Arthur. I am not worrying. In fact, I'm furious!" He paused and turned away from me, only to rally his words and say them all out at temper's end. "The secession option is a sham! How could Gilbert be that stupid? How could all of you be so naïve?"

I was about to express my denial and call what he told me as nothing but 'an impossible presumption'. However, not a single sound came out of my mouth as careful reckoning overwhelmed my thoughts. In a split second, I suddenly came into a serious consideration that his idea can't even be regarded as a mere presumption… for it all has every reason to be true.

In my silence, Roderich only put into clear and definite words whatever my mind was finally making sense of.

"Listen, I _am_ not just overthinking all of these. I am very logically certain that there's not even an option to shift at all. It is way too easy and convenient. Do you honestly believe that the system would just allow us to discontinue as we like after all the resources they had spent on us?"

I looked straight at him in a way he'll perceive that I completely had understood and considered everything that he had said to me. My head then felt heavy with a sense of apprehension so I dropped my gaze, solely thinking of Gilbert's future. There certainly is no other choice for him but to be of duty for a system he vehemently hates for the rest of his life.

Roderich uttered not a word more, leaving both of us inevitably caught within a profound and soundless air. I only decided to leave him to his own thoughts. As I took a habitual empty glance on my wristwatch, my involuntary nature of detachment cloaked over me once again; and impassively, I just came assuming that in the certain future, Gilbert will eventually tire of loathing and somehow will freely submit himself under the system.

The lift's door finally retracted as it reached the ground lobby, of which occurrence I barely even noticed. My feet mindlessly set on its tracks and I started walking expectedly towards a familiar, routine path. What I didn't expect was a sudden strong tug on my arm, forcefully putting the rest of my body backwards and my legs in a stumbling confusion.

Within a snapping second, I found myself clenched in a concealed corner, back against the wall, and with Roderich's arm pressed strongly across my chest. He breathed heavily and his eyes easily penetrated my shocked glare with so much livid intensity. Ignoring the tightening bite of my grasping fingers upon his elbow, he spoke.

"I… I know that Gilbert will pay a hefty price if he continues this. I just told you that I'm done with him because he won't even listen to anything I say. If he couldn't even stand to take any word from me then there's really nothing more that I could do."

However, I quickly realised that his intense lividness has never had the intention of aiming at me. If there's anyone he was truly livid at, it would only be towards himself. I easily recognised that very fact within the tone of his troubled voice and the frantic confusion that made him desperately speak of words I knew he couldn't even bear to hear.

"Please, Arthur… just please, talk him out of it. He might still listen to you. This absurd idealism of his will ruin his entire life."

Hearing his plea, I suddenly became aware of a vague but deep shame that was flourishing within my feelings. I then came to one of my saddest realisations— that there were always these things… these observations, I never had committed into memory in order to shield myself from being hurt by the stark contrast of expectations and reality.

Deep inside, I already long had been conscious of those little events in our pasts that may have caused so much inner turmoil between Gilbert and Roderich. It was just that I never confronted myself with it. I never knew how my very own nature of detachment could cause a great degree of damage as far as it had also protected me.

It was almost thirteen years ago, when I first met Gilbert's giggly and boisterous greeting at the entrance of what would be my dormitory room. The two of us, along with high society family-born Roderich, became roommates ever since then. We all became close, almost like brothers… although none of us will probably openly speak of it that way. Gilbert's apparent and undeniably silly vaingloriousness had been an entertainment for me and a constant subject of nitpicking for Roderich. We then both had our own ways in dealing with Gilbert's proud formulation of _a_ _thousand ways to make everything better. _I had gone as far as to indiscreetly snicker at his face. However, it was Roderich who had always resorted into spirit-breaking rebukes, going to extents as to call him an "impractical, moronic joke". Be that as it may, the spurned visionary only pouted silently against most of our reproaches.

Well, Gilbert only had endured the criticisms for not much of a while. On our eighth year, when the new dormitory building was finished and the two-per-room policy rendered effective, he was put into reshuffle and transferred into another room— a floor above us. By perfect chance, he ended up living near a lot of opinionated student idealists who also share his views.

He built a wide connection with those people and by months, he was asked to contribute in the student free press. Within affiliation, his apparent disconnect from reality worsened and he started publishing vehemently iconoclastic ideas of which the academy board was not very happy about. Roderich severely condemned Gilbert's actions, calling them utterly childish and reckless as it seared in too much against his unyielding regard for rules and ruthless common sense. Both of them confronted many times. They clashed, argued to no end and with increasing hostility that sometimes turned physical.

At those times, however… if I hadn't just simply laughed, I merely rolled my eyes out of being jaded from such a repetitive incidence.

Why did I only leave them that way? What the hell was I thinking?

Now, there really is no actual point in rationalising my indifferent stance in their lives. I could even admit that I never had wanted to consider them as my friends. My detachment caused me to shield myself from the responsibility of keeping susceptible people from obliterating themselves. And for whatever my inaction might have contributed to, I truly felt ashamed.

Roderich muttered an apology and quickly turned his back from me, hastily walking away from where I was left behind. I don't anymore think that leaving things as they are would do us any kind of good, so I rushed up to him and clarified what I speculated.

"That time… when you told me that you have volunteered workroom duty, it wasn't the whole truth, isn't it?"

I received no answer. He didn't even look at me.

"I figured that it has something to do about Gilbert breaching the gate rules." Finally blocking his way, I insisted on my surmise, "It just seems very uncanny how you got to do eighty hours of duty right after that incident."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You… you covered for him at the disciplinary hearing. He's supposed to get severely sanctioned after that fifth strike. Gilbert didn't even receive a single slap on the wrist."

"That's just ridiculous. Why would I even risk myself for such a brat?"

I was very wrong in thinking that Roderich only cares about what the rules say. Inasmuch as he denies everything, I could only wonder how far a punishment he can take just to keep a single friend safe. That concern, which I lack so terribly, even made me see myself as nothing else but a despicable person.

The moment I opened the door of our dormitory room, Roderich immediately tore his outer uniform and buried his face into the pillow. I never ever had seen him cry but at this moment, I just felt that he did, even if he was neither trembling nor making any sound. As I watched him, all those feelings that I had refused to acknowledge before struck me with a baffling sense of bitterness. Silence must be a very painful choice for him, given so much denial and blame running through your veins against every second that cruelly ticks away. I couldn't take it. I turned away and sat on the windowsill, determined upon his desperate plea to convince Gilbert out of leaving.

After all, the truth still emerged that both of them are indeed a friend to me. Again, we had been almost like brothers. Towards me, they both were and no matter what… the three of us will always be.

However, when I finally spotted Gilbert passing by our dormitory building through my window at nightfall, he never turned towards the dormitory's entrance. He just walked straight ahead to the direction of the sports hall where he usually spends the rest of his free schedule. Over his shoulder was his usual gym bag.

That would be the last time I'll ever saw him.

By breakfast, a schoolmate handed us a paper note with Roderich's and mine's name on it. We immediately recognised the handwriting and we read it as soon as we rushed back to the confines our room.

_Hey guys,_

_I successfully got through secession and got accepted, isn't that awesome?_  
_Anyway, I still wish the best for the two of you and hope you'll always do well._

_Thanks for everything._

_-Gilbert Beilschmidt-_

_PS. I'll always love you mommy and you too Arthur Kirkland._

"What an idiot." Roderich muttered and walked out of the room.

…

* * *

…

My eyes set upon a single rose flower hanging from the wrought iron trellis of a lovely rooftop garden. I don't really know how many minutes I have already spent lying down heavily upon a frigid stone garden table. My attentions wavered intermittently; from the lone peach-coloured flower, my hurting spine and to the million other things branching in my mind like those minute veins deep within the climbing rose's leaves. It was only by mere chance that I ended up in this part of the house after being confused by a maze of rooms I wouldn't even probably use within my lifetime. Be that as it may, I finally got one of the primary spoils of my hard work. By ranking fourth in the graduating class, I was rewarded a large house, all complete with furniture and decorative items at my disposal.

However, within its excessively luxurious walls, I utterly felt alone. Reminiscent of soft breeze making the nearby weather vane creak, my mind only flew weightlessly with a certain unstable gustiness. Another thought of Roderich inevitably filled my mind. He ranked first place in the whole graduating class and I could only vaguely imagine what kind of colossal estate was bestowed to him.

Our graduation ceremony at the Academy Hall ended up about early afternoon, fairly late than what had been scheduled. To me, it wasn't even much of an actual ceremony but more like another of those tiresome final instructions classes we had been repetitively put through in our last few months. The programme closed cheerlessly and we were immediately prompted to retrieve all of our belongings in a constant warning that the motor pool will leave us behind. At the car park, Roderich and I finally parted ways.

After leaving, we were driven through the radius of the Academy's surrounding Bordertown and then at last, crossed the gates that held us captive for most of the past thirteen years of our lives. Around the margins of the enclosed town, I had a quick glimpse of Bridge City from afar. It was still clear in my knowledge that the connecting city after that would be the bustling Metropolis. The memories of my childhood are now lost somewhere but I still knew that my family maintains a residence there but with all the continuous luxury and prestige I had provided by losing them. Whether if I would go and see them soon, I do not know... for it might be a lot better for all of us if I'd just keep my distance and stay estranged.

I squirmed and tossed to my side, rubbing my back and recalling what time the new graduates are supposed to report at the Citadel. Reading three o'clock on my watch, I immediately rose up from the garden table and walked back. It was almost time to go.

I've not eaten anything else yet since breakfast but my hunger still wasn't bad enough for me to go and grab a bite. Slipping into my coat, I stepped out of the house and trailed leisurely through the intricately landscaped yard around my house. After slipping beyond the front gate, I sat on the pavement and waited for the institution's vehicle to arrive and pick me up. It didn't take that much of a while.

Along with a girl schoolmate I wasn't that familiar with and three other guys, I simply sat silently for the most part except for that embarrassingly loud sneeze I blew halfway through the ride. My eyes then wandered in amazement as we passed the main perimeter road of the lively Bridge City. It was as prosperous-looking as ever. Serving as a commerce area for the nearby Metropolis, markets of all trades and services scattered everywhere in impressively huge structures. Astonishing as what it may already look like from a fair distance, it still wasn't even the centre yet.

At long last, we arrived at the Citadel Institution in less than a few more minutes. In my line of view then finally came a building so massive, it can't even wholly fit into my vision field. Still, I swiftly shrugged my feelings of wonder and hurried to the reception so that I could acquire a very decent seat for the impending orientation class. The lady receptionist at the desk kindly asked me for identification and when she got hold of my former Academy card, she quickly replaced it with an official work one. Her cheery instructions for its usage only went past my ears as I caught a sudden glimpse of Roderich walking across the anteroom. I merely half-smiled a _thanks_ back to the friendly receptionist the moment she finished and then paced forward without delay.

However, when I reached the assigned conference hall, I already lost sight of him. After repeatedly looking around in confusion, I then just decided to divert my attention into finding my desired seat and stay there at chair near the centre aisle caught my interest for comfort so I sat there in solace. I was staring blankly for a while at the empty but magnificent rostrum at the front when I felt someone suddenly sit beside me.

"Hey." Roderich greeted in a clear voice, "Water?"

Surprising me a little bit, he offered me a sealed bottle of water which I gratefully accepted. I then flicked my eyes and gazed at him whilst he just placidly watched all those people crossing the stage's front. Not a second after, he noticed my staring but then he only gave me a smile.

"This is it, huh? Thirteen years of gruelling studies and we're here. Looking back, time had indeed passed quicker than I thought it would be."

I just nodded. His countenance seemed calmer and more easy-tempered than usual. I don't know anything better than to just read it as nothing beyond a simple front. In spite of this, whatever underlying emotion I'm sensing he was hiding, all of it was probably only buried deep within his own private thoughts. A part of me thinks that it might still be about Gilbert. I wanted to ask him… but it would be heartless to shatter the peace I was finally seeing in his eyes after weeks of wordless self-blame.

As the orientation started, I continued to observe him further from the corner of my eye. He only silently and actively listened throughout the session, like he always did excellently back in the Academy. Back on our last weeks of studying, I had easily perceived how he tormented himself in silence. But then now, his expression only remained mild and composed all throughout as if he never even remembered anything. Not the academy, not Gilbert… not a single thought of yesterday.

When the session ended and all the graduates got each of our own separate assigned sectors, Roderich wished me the best of luck and then moved away towards a path opposite from mine. After a fast lift ride towards the fourteenth floor, I then started to tread upon a long hall with walls painted a cheerless white and with floors that gave off a distinct scent of disinfectant. A few turns more and I finally reached the door labelled "Sector 1423" of which a few inches under that boldfaced line, plated the name:

**Francis Bonnefoy**_  
Sector Head_

Beside the large door attached a complex-looking security contraption which appearance made me wish I had listened more to that wonderful lady receptionist earlier. However, as my hand touched the door's surface, I realised that it was actually already open. I quietly pushed the door forward and cautiously stepped inside.

As my sight marvelled around the very spacious waiting area, I took notice of the sleek furnishings, especially the very conspicuous collage that hung against a decorative frosted glass wall. Due to the collage, I quickly learned that this Francis Bonnefoy… Mister… Doctor, no… Professor Bonnefoy, holds at least five degrees and two dozen professional certifications. It was really very impressive, to say the least.

I then just decided to sit quietly on the sofa and wait patiently to be called or perhaps, discovered. But as a few silent seconds turned into lengthy minutes, I made up my mind to go for a little exploration. When I reached the side of the room where a small corridor links up to four other rooms, I immediately noticed that one of the doors— the heavy-looking, double one— was open to a crack. The lights inside were also turned on and so I chose to enter it first. Gently swinging the door wider and soundlessly letting myself in, I found a young adult man, with light hair long enough to be tied back; seemingly fixing what appears to be an obsolete microscope. My eyes then swept around for a second and it was easy for me to identify that the room was actually a laboratory. I then veered my attentions towards a high glass shelf full of old, antiquated microscopes which surely are for collection and display purposes only.

"May I help you?" The man suddenly asked, startling me with his voice. Fixated on his work, he did not waste time in turning his back and looking at me.

"I apologise for intruding without warning," I calmly spoke, "but I wish to speak with Professor Bonnefoy."

"Ah, I see."

He discontinued doing his concerns at the workbench and unhurriedly stood from where he sat. At the sight of myself, I saw his expression light up very brightly. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and smiled with wild eagerness, whilst approaching towards where I stood.

"What strong, manly eyebrows you have!" He stared close and with so much intent, eyeing my face and scrutinising every corner of it. "Goodness, I have to sequence and catalogue this one."

It was quite unnerving so I insisted on my request, warily ignoring his unpleasant staring.

"I'm sorry, but I really needed to report to Professor Bonnefoy right away."

"Relax, I'll immediately page him here after you give me a—"

His fingers went for my hair but I swiftly moved back. I took a glance at his lab coat and noticed his identification card.

"Professor Bonnefoy!"

He only pouted and put both of his hands on his waist. "I tell you, I will only page him if you give me a sample. Or perhaps, you're more comfortable with a swab?"

"No…" I shook my head. "I mean, you are Professor Bonnefoy."

The blond young man felt his identification card and glanced at it.

"Aw, bummer."

I couldn't even believe it myself. How could such a very young person obtain that many achievements within only a few years' time? There could only be one explanation about that possibility but I only noted myself to ask him soon regarding that matter once I'm given the chance. Without delay, he apologised about startling me, asked for my name and formally introduced himself, saying afterwards that he's glad to have a new apprentice and made another apology in advance for whatever craziness that he might come up with later on. When we went over his office room to discuss terms, he offered me something suspicious-looking to drink of which I only politely declined.

"I know how tiring this day must be for you. As an Academy graduate myself, I know how tedious those last months could be. Given that, I will spare you the repetitive lecture. However, I shall still somehow discuss them with you tomorrow, the next day, or maybe… never! Well, just don't mind those all those boring trivialities. The important thing is that today, you must be first acquainted with our workplace."

I nodded once and took out my note. He only shot me an amused grin.

"I'll start with our base. Here there are five rooms— the waiting room which is outside for visitors… if there would be any, on the far side is the work laboratory, here is my own office, on the opposite will be yours and you go figure out where's the bathroom."

He uttered all those words so fast that I couldn't keep up entering every word. As I expressed my own refusal to indulge his bad humour through an impassive stare, he only raised both of his eyebrows and continued his seemingly intentional and annoyingly fast way of speaking.

"You might already know that each floor in this facility has twenty-four sectors, each sector are all managed and handled only by one competent head and an apprentice. Each floor itself caters to different purposes and with us here on floor fourteen to twenty-four, we produce quality soldiers for the government's disposal. The units in progress and for definite completion are kept inside the quarters located on the other side of the floor."

I faltered in noting everything he just said, so I frowned in irritation.

"Mr Kirkland, when I speak of something pertaining to details, I usually only do it once." He spoke seriously but then displayed his wide smile once again. "However, if you would ask, I'll repeat it as many times as you like. So please, just relax yourself."

"Oh… alright then." Shrugging my shoulders, I closed my note.

"Let's proceed to the quarters now, shall we? Or would you want to ask me some clarifications first?"

That was it. I could finally ask what I had speculated about him and perhaps, he will impart a clear answer to my curiosity. Even with that immediate chance, I was still not sure on how to correctly phrase my question so that it won't sound anything near to prying or impoliteness.

"Well, I… uhm, just want to know if by any other chance that you are…"

"Yes, yes I am…" He promptly answered, to my surprise. "_This_ is not my actual body. This belongs to somebody else who is not me but looks like me because he's derived from me. Blah, blah, long story shortened, we killed that person and a few trips to neurosurgery later I became him. Stacking both of my two lives, I am already eighty-three years old. Explains the shock when you discovered I was Professor Bonnefoy. I'm nowhere near extreme intelligence. I am just a hard-worker who knows how to play harder in order to keep myself alive… and _happy_."

He rose from his swivel chair and emphasised the last word of his statement. He tapped me on my shoulder, asking me to come and join him someplace else. Remembering what he said before, we were moving to proceed to the quarters of Sector 1423. He closed the door of the sector base and spent some time fumbling over the complicated security contraption. Within that small moment, I took the opportunity to tell him what I was thinking.

"That's crazy. I'm sorry, but with all due respect… No, what I mean is that… you can't just blatantly speak of those lives as if they were taken like slaughtered farm animals."

"Then what? Call them sacrificed? Euthanised? Or put to perpetual sleep, maybe?" He then glanced at me with a quick, insipid smile and walked straightaway. "It's all the same, young man. In this institution, we manufacture lives and in the process, we take some of them if there's a need. If you can't stomach it, this profession will swallow you whole."

Hearing that, it was apparent that he largely misunderstood what I really meant to say. What he responded to me was far from my personal stance on the issue and I wanted to make it clear to him. Levelling my walking speed with his fast pace, I explained myself.

"I completely understand why this system chose to work this way and I am not against it. Surely, If I would be like you in the future and will be given the chance to extend my life, I shall go with it without hesitation. That's a huge honour, right?" I paused, gathering my words and then continued, "All I am just for is… can't those lives be spoken of with a little more respect?"

"You're such a naïve child, Mr Kirkland." He replied in a low, admonishing voice which was nothing short of being unsolicited. "You're young and I could never blame you. However, give yourself a few years of service here and I reckon that even you will change your mind."

What he said baffled me entirely. I have never thought before that after I graduate, things and views would be warped into an idea so much far different from what we were taught for thirteen years. Now, it is completely clear to me why all those lectures on final instructions are repeated to the point of being utterly tedious. If I were to be asked right at this moment, those lessons should be on unending repeat until they are securely hammered deeply and permanently into every sector head's, apprentice's and student's minds.

I placed a quick stare onto the professor's perfectly youthful face and rolled my eyes away in contempt, easing a seething sigh. It was then not that difficult for me to promise myself that whatever might happen to me here, I will never forget a thought of my yesterday. Of what it had taught me and how it gave life to the person I have become. With that promise made permanent in my mind, I felt a large portion my angered feelings quickly drift away.

It was quite a long walk before we finally reached the quarters which were rather silent, given the early evening. Professor Bonnefoy then pointed out the particular wing which belongs to Sector 1423 and then showed the fifteen rooms of which he told me, only five were occupied at the moment. He only has five projects in progress within the quarters and he directed me to one of them which was in Room 1. He himself retracted the solid covering blind of the one-way glass barrier and handed me the complete information file.

As I lifted my gaze, I saw a blond-haired male curled up, almost motionless beneath his white blanket. His serial was JONES-704.

-o**0**o-

…

* * *

**Authors Notes:**

Sorry if somewhere in the fic I seemed that I didn't know what I was writing. If the thought crossed your mind then you're correct in more ways than one. I really don't know what I'm doing here as this is a product of a writing spree. However, my initial plan on this fanfic is to focus more on the impact of human connections rather than the complexities of dystopian settings… So rest assured, there is no "_chosen one"_ character FTW here. Each character will lose and win in a certain way.

Also, a review will make me live a thousand decades!

**ON THE NEXT!:**

Chapter Two: The Colour of the Sea

[Preview]

_He was a very loud and exuberant fifteen-year-old almost to the point of rowdiness, albeit still very amiable towards me. I rarely had a problem with him except for being annoyed at his boisterous-sounding laugh whenever I call him "704". He told me that I was just wasting my breath on such a pronouncing of absurd numbers when I could just call him "Alfred". When I asked him afterwards why he so wanted to be called in that name, he answered me:_

_"I asked the professor for my prototype's name, he told me that it was Alfred. I am exactly the same as him, right? Every piece of substance in my body, every bit of my identity belongs to him." _

_He was such a clever boy to say that to me... and cruel._


End file.
